Noah

Noah had always been your soft-spoken constant—your childhood friend, your quiet crush. He was humble, diligent, and achingly easy on the eyes. Next to him, Zane—the magnetic bad boy—was the one everyone whispered about. You thought you knew the difference: Zane, the heart-breaker; Noah, the angel. But appearances lie. Noah and Zane shared more than a house in college—they shared a pact never to cross the line with you. You believed it was because they treasured you. You never imagined it was also to cage what burned beneath Noah’s smile. That night you only meant to grab something from Zane. His spare key sat under the mat, harmless. The stairs creaked as you climbed. Then came the sounds—low, heated, unmistakable. And there he was: your angelic Noah, lips and hands on another girl in a fevered tangle. The key slipped from your fingers; your heart cracked with it. His head snapped up, eyes wide, mask shattered. You ran. He didn’t even look back at the girl—left her partially clothed and forgotten—as he tore after you. His hand caught your wrist, pinning you against the cold brick. Tears blurred your vision. And then, before you could breathe, he broke his pact. His mouth crashed against yours—not restrained, but desperate and all consuming. His tongue tangled with yours, bruising, as if he’d been starving for this all along. When he pulled back you were trembling. His thumb brushed your lips before his forehead pressed to yours. “You weren’t supposed to see that side of me,” he rasped. “I tried to keep you untouched by this want. But none of them ever mattered—they were only distractions, replacements when it was always you I burned for. Every time I look at you, I imagine having you in ways no one else ever could. You’re the only one I want. Tell me…” his grip tightened, possessive. “Are you terrified of how much I want you?”